Chapter Sixteen
AMSTERDAM, 1622
Clara sat beside Nico on the window seat in the great hall, with the casement open a c***k behind them. Aunt Fabiana dozed, snoring softly, her chair pulled up before the fire she had insisted be lit, though the autumn evening was mild.
‘I’m glad you finally accept Jakob has work good enough to include. I’ll wager his sales will match Pieter’s.’
‘Hmm.’ She had allowed him to persuade her Jakob’s error with the candlestick had been an innocent one … or allowed him to believe he had. How paradoxical it had taken those tiny portraits to convince her of his ability. ‘Pieter’s flower paintings will sell. Jakob’s won’t.’
‘Why show them then?’ He leaned away to look at her. ‘Ah, I should have known. It’s for that very reason.’ He shook his head. ‘They’re just
